


love me lights out

by wardo_wedidit



Series: A Very Specific Series [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Karaoke, M/M, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: "Nooooo,” David whines dramatically, fumbling one hand away from where he’s holding Patrick to cover his face. “Stevie, we agreed, only artists that have been pre-approved by me. No Vanilla Ice.”Or, a short drabble about David's bachelor party going off the rails.





	love me lights out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goingmywaydoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingmywaydoll/gifts).



> So [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingmywaydoll/pseuds/goingmywaydoll) thought it would be funny to make a joke at me, and she and [Deii](https://rosesapothecary.tumblr.com/) had already requested bachelor party drabbles, so here is the silliest, stupidest thing I have ever written in an afternoon. Em, I hope this teaches you that I take jokes _very seriously_.
> 
> Title from [Beyoncé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfiR8nihkyg), image of David absolutely fond because of a dumb karaoke performance straight from [Dan Levy's face](https://lilbitalexis.tumblr.com/post/185775706759).

“ _Separate_ ,” Stevie says with exhaustion as Patrick strides over to the back of the bar. “We specifically said _separate_ bachelor parties.” 

David doesn’t care right now; he’s had more than a few polar bear shots and a couple of cocktails—enough that he’s not embarrassed to be flailing his hands out to his fiancé, who grins lazily as he comes closer. He settles himself in David’s lap with a comfortable kiss to his temple, and David’s arms go easily around his waist. 

“Sorry, Stevie,” he says, sounding not very sorry at all. Sounding kind of delighted, in fact. “My party ended a little bit early, so I thought I’d come check on you guys.” 

David nuzzles his head into Patrick’s jacket, which feels nice and cold from the outside air against David’s flushed skin. He guesses even Patrick’s sweater would feel good right now, despite the fact that it’s some kind of cheap poly-blend. He’s that kind of drunk where everything feels kind of slow and floaty, and he’s been known to get kind of tactile at his stage, so he couldn’t be happier to have a lap full of Patrick to cuddle into in a dark corner. Or more, preferably, but he thinks Stevie might object strongly to that. Still, David doesn’t know how he’s supposed to resist; Patrick smells like sweat and the musk from his cologne and beer and David just wants to lick him everywhere.

“Ew, David,” Alexis says, her face disgusted but with an edge of teasing as David realizes he maybe said that last part out loud. She’s twirling her hair idly around her finger with one hand, holding a drink in the other, the picture of relaxed poise. “You’re not going to be allowed to sit next to each other if you can’t behave.” 

“Aw, c’mon Alexis, let ‘em be happy,” Ted slurs, leaning forward and slopping some of his drink into her lap, which makes her scrunch up her nose and wipe at it with the napkin in her hand. David’s jealous of her ability to look composed in any situation, even when she’s three sheets to the wind. 

“It’s annoying how perfect you are,” he snaps at her, the mess of emotion in his chest spilling out with blistering honesty, and Alexis grins at him, hands moving to paw at his arm. 

“Aw, David!” 

He rolls his eyes, squirming away from her touch. Ugh, she doesn’t get it. Or words aren’t working right. Or both. 

Patrick’s shaking with laughter in his arms though, so that’s something. 

“Oh hey, Patrick!” Twyla says, swaying a little bit as she descends from the little stage and the closing notes of Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” fade out. “How was the baseball bachelor party?”

“Great, thanks Twy,” Patrick says amiably, smiling easily at her. “Good performance.” 

“Thanks!” she says, accepting the cosmo that Stevie hands her. “You missed David’s performance of ‘Dreamlover’—” Patrick’s brows go up and he turns to David with an interested face, “—but I’m sure he’ll be up again in a few, and I think he said he was going to do ‘Touch My Body’ next.” 

“I guess I should have left earlier,” Patrick says, and David tries to press his face impossibly closer, as if he could hide. It doesn’t work, and Patrick’s hand goes comfortably to the back of David’s neck, scratching at the short hairs there. David shivers. 

“Who’s _up!_ ” Ted whoops, and then his face goes wide and excited as the next words spill out, “Patrick, big guy, you haven’t gone yet—” 

“ _No,_ ” Stevie says with certainty. “People with actual musical talent are the worst to have at karaoke. Like we get it, we know you can sing, that’s not what this is about.” 

“Um, I’m offended,” David protests. 

“Hey, no fair,” Patrick says. “I do a great ‘Born to Run.’”

“Mm! Very butch,” David mumbles, nodding insistently into Patrick’s arm. 

“Still,” Stevie says, shaking her head and making her way over to the karaoke list, a wicked glint in her eye. “If I am going to graciously allow you to perform, Patrick, I’m picking your song.” 

“Oh god,” David groans at the same time Patrick says, “Fine.” 

Stevie clicks around with determination, tongue caught between her teeth and brow furrowed before she finally makes her way back over, triumphant, declaring, “‘Ice, Ice Baby.’” 

“ _Nooooo,_ ” David whines dramatically, fumbling one hand away from where he’s holding Patrick to cover his face. “Stevie, we agreed, only artists that have been pre-approved by me. No Vanilla Ice.” 

“That was before your fiancé decided to break the rules of separate bachelor parties,” she says, evil and unaffected and cool, turning her challenging gaze on Patrick, who shrugs agreeably. 

“Sure, whatever.” 

David pulls back, horrified. “Excuse me?”

Patrick’s grin widens as he turns to David. “Sure, I’ll do it, it’s a fun song.” 

Alexis lets out a low, playful “oooooh,” and David flicks his gaze over to glare at her. 

“A _fun song_?”

“Yeah,” he says, words coming out half a laugh. “Plus, I don’t want Stevie to kick me out of your party.” He presses a quick kiss to David’s lips but David’s still frozen, shocked and unable to react as Patrick untangles himself, standing and walking over to the stage.

His jaw is slack as Stevie wedges her way in next to him, face impish. David shakes his head tightly at her. “This is the meanest thing you’ve ever done to me.” 

“You’ll get over it. Drink up,” she says cheerily, reaching forward to hand him her whiskey sour. David takes a large sip as the familiar opening bassline kicks up, features going horrified as Patrick kind of bops around on the stage before the words “All right stop, collaborate and listen,” come out of his mouth and echo into the mic. 

Weirdly, even though everyone else has politely ignored their antics for the rest of the night, Patrick’s song seems to catch everyone’s attention. Twyla _woooo_ s and Ted starts hooting along, and then the whole bar kind of gets behind him, clapping on beat and soon even Alexis is cheering. Stevie cackles, fumbling for her phone, and David groans. 

“Video, really? This isn’t bad enough?”

“Just in case he doesn’t remember in the morning!” she shouts over the noise, and it’s all David can do to slowly shake his head, mouth open and watch, utterly helpless. 

The annoying thing is, Patrick has an undeniable magnetism on stage. He’s stumbling through some of the rap, missing words here and there and sometimes letting his performance collapse into laughter, but he’s still having so much fun that it’s not hard to watch. No way he would admit this under anything less than pain of death, but it’s not quite as embarrassing as David thought it would be. He just keeps shaking his head slowly back and forth, but he can tell from the way Stevie flips the camera onto him for a minute that his expression is devolving into something fond, giving himself away. 

Everyone loses their minds on the final “word to your mother,” loud enough to drown out the final fadeout of the song as they clap and stomp their feet and lose their minds. He gets a lot of claps on the back from random townies as he returns to their little corner with a proud smile, as if he were some kind of conquering hero. 

“How’d I do?” 

David just stammers, helpless at the way Patrick is grinning at him, eyes sparkling in the darkness. 

Stevie sighs, speaking at last, taking pity of both of them. “Mr. Brewer, I think you’ve earned yourself one corny karaoke love song of your choice. Performed in David’s direction, of course.” She nods at hm, almost impressed, and Patrick grins.

“ _No,_ ” David replies mulishly, even though she’s standing to get more drinks and not listening to either of them. 

“So,” Patrick says, settling right back into David’s lap. “Any notes?”

“The wedding’s off,” David says archly, tipping his chin up. 

“Aw, shucks.” He tips their faces together and kisses him anyway, hot and lazy, they way he would if they were alone, and David feels himself melt into it, boneless. He strokes softly over David’s cheek with his thumb as he pulls away, a small, private smile on his mouth. “I was really looking forward to it.” 

“A shame,” David agrees, nodding. “But I just can’t be with someone who doesn’t have fundamental objections to Vanilla Ice.” 

“I’d love to hear your argument,” Patrick murmurs low, moving in again, and they kiss slowly until Alexis shrieks at them in protest, sharply enough that they both jump. 

The rest of the night goes about as expected. Patrick uses his earned performance from Stevie to sing “Time After Time,” and David goes inexplicably teary, which Alexis takes as a cue to take as many terrible pictures of him as possible in the dim light. Patrick goes from tipsy to drunk, getting all sappy as David gets increasingly touchy-feely, murmuring “I love you,” over and over again, soft enough that no one else can hear, which makes David’s heart squeeze. 

David and Stevie close out the night with a joint performance of “XO,” but soon Alexis and Patrick and Ted and Twyla have all piled on stage too, jumping and swaying and screaming into the microphones by the end. And David is drunk off his ass but he thinks maybe he’s never felt so happy or so loved, with all his friends here with him, singing about love and light in the darkness and, of course, Beyoncé. 

Stevie calls them all cabs and they wait in the darkness outside the bar, all various degrees of shivering and drunk. Alexis is wearing Ted’s jacket and leaning on his shoulder, and Stevie and Twyla are huddled together for warmth, and Patrick has an arm around David’s shoulder and is rubbing up and down on his sweater. David is using him to try and stay upright, though they’re both just as wasted as each other, so it’s only moderately successful. 

“Guys,” Patrick says, the word coming out slow and slurred like molasses. “I can’t wait to get married.” 

Alexis and Ted and Twyla all _aww_ in unison while Stevie sticks a finger in her mouth and gags. David’s face feels like it’s on fire, looking determinedly ahead, even as Patrick sweeps back a bit of David’s hair where it’s messy, flopping into his face a bit. 

“I never thought I’d get to be this happy,” he says, and now David _has_ to look at him, giving his head a tiny shake even as his throat feels tight, eyes stinging a little. 

He loves his sister and Ted and Stevie and even strange and sweet Twyla, tonight, but he’s never been gladder to be rid of them than when they get to stumble into the back of their own little cab and he can loll his head against Patrick’s shoulder, whisper back, “I can’t wait to marry you either.”

Patrick chuckles softly into his ear. “Sorry for crashing your party,” he says, and David shakes his head insistently into Patrick’s side. 

“Was perfect,” he mumbles, and means it with everything inside him. It was worth every bit of the deathly hangover he’ll have tomorrow, every touch of the drunken, sloppy sex they’ll have when they get home, even all the blackmail video Stevie has on her phone now. “Perfect night.” 

Patrick squeezes him a little bit tighter, and David lets himself doze a little bit the rest of the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wardowedidit) to help this fandom ruin my life even further. :)
> 
> Edit: I ended up making a full [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/52IywvBLoI7zqRLxeQ7uth?si=3Y-xvZQcTX6h1nd5XmGsFQ) of some of the group's favorite karaoke jams, inspired by this fic, because as you all know, I don't have ANY chill.


End file.
